A new day, A new dawn
by IceQueenForLife
Summary: A new comer to London has arrived. Who he is only Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes know. Yet to reveal his face he will when the time is right. Sherlolly in later chapters. (I know it doesn't sound that interesting, but please give it a try.)
1. Chapter 1- New Arrival

**Kay so hello everyone. Just a story that I can hopefully can keep up with and have a good idea out. I'm not saying anything other than spoilers ;) Hope you guys like it and I know it's not great but it's something. Warning not Beta-ed I don't have now yet sadly. Also if you will imagine the person your about to read as Tom Hiddleston still spoilers. Also sorry for the OOC-ness. :/**

**-IceQueen**

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London. It was great to be back. The city was a place of dreams, relatively nice people, and somewhat rainy weather. Cars, lorries, and cabbies passing by in the vast streets on rush hour at six the afternoon. The smell of the city was nostalgic; fumes of the machines all around and the occasional perfume, coffee, cuisines, and baked goods.

To anybody who lived long enough in the city of London, it was a normal day, a routine. Although that wasn't much of the case for the man walking on the path, it was immensely nostalgiaic for him. Every smell, sound, and sight enlightened memories. A man who very few knew; he was tall with silver eyes, ebony hair and scruff of a beard. He walked along the path like a lord passing commoners for a Festival, but a nice one. He smile to people who smiled to him out of kindness otherwise ignoring people as they passed. His mind was full of worry. Worry of what others might think. What exactly? Who knows, but he, himself.

Entering his flat in the heart of London. Still his face showed the emotion of distress for he didn't know what these next few days were going to bring. He only hoped for the best and no exile from them, the people he was about to see again after a really long time. So he did what he did best: research. Blogs, articles, old and resent news, magazines, you name it.

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Baker Street, home of the great consulting detective: Sherlock Holmes. A man of brilliance, an ability to see what others don't by a single look. Deduction is what he called it. Sadly enough for him he was bored out of his mind with no cases on hand other than trying to solve the biggest case of them all. His arch rival Moriarty.

It was five months since Sherlock killed a man to protect his best friend and his best friend's wife. Along with the video of Moriarty popping up all over London saying 'miss me?'. Sherlock, despite the new troubles appearing all over London was happy to say everything was great to be back in Baker Street. If only it were in better terms other than trying to take down a maniac everyone thought dead. Which also brought a big problem and great concern for him of who Moriarty would go for now.

It could be anyone: John again, Mary or their child Lexi. The possibilities were endless on the targets Moriarty could aim at. First things first now, Sherlock was positive the video was a joke it could've been taken before he was dead, but he wasn't sure not till he got more details or hopefully evidence. Sadly none of that was at hand the video was there, but it's like it was planned for...something. Five months on trying to see Moriarty's angle on what he would do next and he had nothing.

Currently the consulting detective's Homeless network was working on watching over his friends even if they insisted they didn't need it. He did so anyways even if his brother in the "minor British Goverment" offered to do the watching. It brought a certain peace to Sherlock's mind that they were safe and nothing of current ill-will was as of worry. Pulling his phone out of his pocket he started texting.

_**Molly care to come over?-SH **_

Sherlock stared at the screen. He needed something to calm his mind. Luckliy it didn't take long for the Pathologist to reply back.

_**Sure. Nice timing too, just got out of work.-MHxx**_

A light smile appeared on Sherlock's face; the response was very Molly. Pocketing his phone he went into his Mind Palace evaluating his memories and current relationships.

John Watson, ex-war doctor/blogger/best friend/family,

married now to...

Mary Watson née Morstan, wife of blogger/ex-assassin/best friend/family.

New addition Lexi Watson, John and Mary's daughter/goddaughter/family.

Mrs. Hudson, landlady/second mother.

Lestrade, top officer of Scotland Yard/friend.

Mycroft Holmes, brother/family,

Molly Hooper, Pathologist/best friend?.

Opening his eyes he questioned in his mind 'what about Molly'. He had never done so before other than making sure where the people he interacted and cared for stood. Although it seemed to have happened more than ever now that he was back from the dead. Sherlock noticed he seemed to alter a lot more around Molly. She was practically all over his mind palace. Best friend or something more? Before he could ponder on his thoughts any longer the sound of ringing of the doorbell was heard. Rushing to the door down stairs he opened it.

He was greeted with a small yet cheerful smile by Molly. "Hello." Looking back he was grateful to be back in Molly's good graces once again after those slaps in the face when he was high and he'd rather be with it than without it. In a way it helped him. How? He didn't quite know that himself. Observing Molly, she was clean and rosy colored on her neck, hands and fingers; she had taken a shower before coming over. She wore a tan trench coat with forest green jumper with black trousers and sneakers she was being herself. In her hands was a big bag no doubt body parts from the Morgue at St. Bart's.

"Hi." Sherlock replied. He moved to let Molly in the flat, closing the door once she was in the flat they headed up the stairs.

"You texted me meaning you need something. What do you need?" She asked.

Glancing at her they both smiled. The quote obviously stirring memories for them both.

"I wanted some company. Who better than you? John and Mary are busy with their daughter I didn't want to disturb them."

Molly chuckled a little at Sherlock's sincerity. He would have never done that before the fall, but everyone could see Sherlock was a different man since he got back. They were all afraid to lose him again and he was afraid to lose them too.

"Want to do some experiments then while I have these." Lifting up the bag more Molly rested it on the kitchen table.

"Sure, got nothing else to do. What do you want to start with?"

"Anything that can keep your mind busy."

"Alright."

They both started working quickly on the list of the countless experiments Sherlock decided to do and work on. Every hypothesis and conclusion he noted in his mind. They both enjoyed working together from the new ideas Molly said to inside jokes they shared. Almost knowingly they avoided any talk about his case of Moriarty. It was a delicate subject for them both considering the past events. Other than that before they knew it they had spent the entire night working and joking around together. Molly taking notes and Sherlock conducting.

Getting take-away (Molly's insistence) they talked of cell growths and cancers not a very normal thing to talk about, but they both saw no problem with it. It wasn't till sun rise that Sherlock stopped whatever it was what he was doing. Looking over at the Pathologist she was fast asleep on the couch all curled up. It brought a smile to his Cupid bow lips.

Turning off the blowtorch in his hands, taking off his gloves and goggles he grabbed a blanket that was draped over John's chair and rested it over Molly's body. Watching she curled up into presence for the blanket. Pleased he turned around and sat in his chair lifted up his violin and stared playing a small song for his sleeping companion.

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It was the next day already. How time flew quickly these days maybe too much so. People below him on the paths and streets went about their day the same as the last. The man looking out the window once more was still troubled ;however, in memory in his mind the last he saw for the people he cared for it wasn't the easiest of times. It was all the opposite the worst. Looking out the window of his flat he saw how much and how little the world changed taking a deep breath he composed himself. He thought to himself he shouldn't need to worry it was like time-it passed quick and with it maybe the worry would turn into something good. With a sad smile that appeared on the man's face it was like what he told himself 'only hope for the best, a new day a new dawn'.

Turning around he grabbed his coat and scarf by the chair heading out the door once more. He needed to know London all over again. Why not start now. From the information he grabbed out of his research from earlier he had to approach his targets carefully they were being watched after all. Nobody knew but him. The employer of the homeless network: Sherlock Holmes was his top target on the vast list he had know for a while now.

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To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2- Tea with a kid

**Second chapters are like second helpings or second breakfast. ANYWAYS. Hope u readers like. Also it's a slow start sort of just bare with me for now. Also same as last time for "the man" Tom Hiddleston in your thoughts and voice. Allons-y! (By the ways thank you OnceInABlueMoon13 for being my beta for this story.) **

**-IceQueen**

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Walking up the stairs carefully of 221 Baker Street Mrs. Hudson, landlady of the flats, carried a heavy tray of tea. It was norm for her to do this, a routine to bring her favorite tenant a cup of tea every morning. Reaching the door of 221B Mrs. Hudson listened to the soft noise of the violin Sherlock Holmes carried in his hand and crook of his neck. Pushing open the door she greeted the relaxed consulting detective.

"Hoo-hoo. Your tea, Sherlock."

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson. Mind you though we do have company." He said this still playing the violin in his hands. A feat others would rival at with envy.

"Where?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Look behind you."

Actually looking over the landlady started at the figure of Molly Hooper on the leather sofa.

Worry and curiosity were clear in Mrs. Hudson's words and face. She didn't know what to do, so she sat in John's chair looking over Molly. "Poor dear. You could've lent her your room or John's. How long has she been there?"

"Don't know. I found her there when I stopped working at sunrise. I've been composing since then."

"Doing your experiments?"

"Of course my experiments. She brought some body parts from the Morgue so why not, I had nothing better to do."

Plucking at the strings he continued to play the song he had been playing since sunrise. It was new to him something he created out of the mood and situation he was in and he knew it was Molly that made it so. It was now her song. He was playing it on his violin, and he had to admit he liked it. It fit Molly perfectly, low notes depicting her sadness and strengths. High notes, her cheerfulness and outlook of the life she had around her.

Meanwhile, without him realizing it Mrs. Hudson wasn't in John's chair anymore. Looking around him, everything was the same as when she came in other, than the small depression in the chair Mrs. Hudson made. Sherlock concluded she didn't leave more than a minute ago. He wasn't listening, oh well it happened sometimes whether for the good and bad he didn't know.

Looking over at Molly she was still asleep. Turning to his watch he noticed it wouldn't be long until she woke up. Luckily the tea wouldn't be cold by then, setting down his violin he grabbed a tea cup off the tray applying the needs of his tea. He drank it, grateful to have one to wake him up to some extent.

"I smell tea." Molly roused. She rubbed her eyes of sleepiness and stretched letting out all the tension from her sleep. The couch was definitely no place to sleep.

Sherlock smiled at Molly with her little quirks. "Yes there is and it's fresh."

Smiling she joined her friend for a nice cuppa.

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Hyde Park not far from his top target on his list. It was a nice little park with families and people with their dogs by their sides. It was all so normal compared to his life, if only it could be that way, carefree with normal things to worry about in life versus his own. The man sat in a bench observing everyone and everything, he missed days like these peaceful ones. There was no one to tell him what to do or yelling at him to see if he did his job right. He was free to be what he wanted to be, but he knew he really wasn't. Even after all these years he still held regret in his heart for the life he left behind before joining an unforeseeable horrid one he finally was able to escape from.

Suddenly almost out of nowhere a voice called to him.

"Hello...Mister?" He was greeted with small boy with hazel eyes and red hair with a thick north accent about the age of eight or so. His parents were divorced, with no knowledge of his father's whereabouts. Yet the child held a happy smile.

"Hello." The man held a smile a fake one that covered his grim expression underneath, but he knew the boy saw a sad lonely man on the bench.

"Are you all right?" The boy asked.

Hesitating, he replied, "I hope so."

The child was confused. Why be sad when there was other things to be happy about like playing with friends or the dogs that walked by? Suddenly the boy asked, "What's your name Mister?"

The man looked at him perplexed, "Why would you want to know my name? Didn't your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers? For all she would know I could be a killer."

"You haven't hurt me right now, so why would you? Also how did you know I only have a mum? Are you part of the queen's Government?"

Chuckling at the boy he had to admit he was a smart one, observant like other children. 'Children they see so much, but yet so little.' He said to himself.

He then answered. "First, you're right I won't and I never would. To me it's shameful to hurt the innocent. Second, I observed it. Third, no I'm not, but I know somebody that is. Also... With my name... it's Elias."

The boy stretched out his hand to Elias. He looked at the small hand then to the boy's face. He timidly took the boys hand.

"Hello Elias. My name is Davvy." Davvy shook Elias hand in welcome and greeting. He couldn't find a reason not to mind it one bit. It was nice to have his problems be washed away by a little boy in the park.

"Tell me Davvy. Where's your mum? She would no doubt be worrying about your missing presence right now. Wouldn't she?"

Looking around in worry, Davvy seemed to realize this. "I don't know. We came here just for a walk as we usually do. And we got separated somehow. I got scared when I didn't see her around me, but then I saw you. Can you help me find her?"

Elias's face lit up in a genuine smile. He was happy to help the young boy. "Sure. It would be my pleasure."

Both males stood up from the bench. He grabbed Davvy's hand in his own making sure he didn't get lost again. Looking around it didn't take long for them to find Davvy's mother. It was apparent that Davvy looked a lot like his mum so it was a good thing.

"Good bye, Mister Elias. Thank you."

"You're both welcome."

Watching them leave the park he couldn't help but feel pride in himself for doing a good deed. Elias's mind was in bliss of happiness. No despair was in him. That was until he saw a familiar figure in the distance. A man with sandy blond hair cut like a soldier's. A leather jacket and a small limped walk, the soldier held himself greatly in spite of it. He knew the face. Doctor John Hamish Watson. Ex-Afghanistan medic soldier. Blogger and assistant of Sherlock Holmes' cases. He was a family man now with a wife and daughter at home.

Elias wanted to approach the army doctor, but he knew that would be a false move that would endanger himself greatly. Looking around he noticed two of the Homeless network following, then the camera's they were pointing at the army doctor. Chuckling, who else other than Mycroft Holmes on the watch too. Keeping his head low he walked out of the park. He would look for everyone else later.

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To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3- Targets accepted

**New chapter. Yay! Hope u guys like it. Also don't be afraid to review I would be happy to read them and constructive criticism is helpful too. (Special thanks to my beta OnceInABlueMoon13) **

**Disclaimer: Sherlock doesn't belong to me. None of it does. Other than Elias and this plot line I'm making. (Sorry for not adding this to the other two chapters.) **

**Enjoy**

**-IceQueen **

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Heart of London

A week had passed since Elias saw the medic John Watson in Hyde Park unattended.

In Elias's moderate sized flat he looked at himself in the mirror. The dusty thing was fairly big, enough to look at his waist and up. With trousers on and no shirt, he saw the things that were a constant reminder of his past and motivator of this possible new life ahead. Two scars, one on his right shoulder and an other in his left abdomen. Both caused by a knife. Flexing his right arm up with the scar, it pulsed a little with a pain.

He was grateful the pain wasn't as bad as it was when he first got it, but the pain was there at the most unfortunate of times. Looking over to the scar in his abdomen, it was a stoke of luck that it was a shallow cut one made as a warning. Elias was lucky to say it didn't need to go any deeper than when it was on his shoulder.

Pulling out a grey polo from a drawer, he put it on. He didn't have much in the flat, but he was fine with what he had. It was simple just as he liked it. Looking out the window again of his flat he watched yet again how London moved. Some people, lorries, and cabbies passed, some with the same faces, the locals of the street, others new.

Focusing his mind on his more important vision Elias looked back on the week he had researching, looking, and investigating on the people he had on his list. The first he saw was the Top D. I. of Scotland Yard, Greg Lestrade. It was fairly easy getting in. It was luckily a day for them to have reporters in to give them the latest news. Dressing in his best attire dress trousers and a button up shirt, he got in easily. No questions asked.

Sitting himself in the back of all the reporters he watched the questions and answers of the cases that were going on. First was a suicide an easy case to say. Then some murders, victims and murders of money, deals gone wrong, and foul people just wanting to cause pain for their own fun. No doubt Sherlock Holmes took those cases. Elias shook his head, he needed to focus back to his agenda not on the Consulting Detective. He watched as Lestrade took most of the questions, answering some with utmost confidence in his voice.

It was a good thing Lestrade only got demoted Elias could tell he was good at his job and that he valued it. He could also tell the D. I. was a man of words, yet with an action considering Lestrade took his job. He was also smart, but still average in intellect. Divorced with a son that lives with him. It was all information that he needed. Primary target three done.

It may not seem much, but it was enough for him. Information worth the chance of getting caught, he was happy to know that Lestrade was one of Sherlock Holmes friends.

Suddenly turning from the window of the flat he rested in the arm chair by the window. His legs stretched out in front of him and his arms rested in each of the arm rests. A suitable spot for the next evaluation of his week. One that was the Watson's nice happy little family.

Spotting the ex-army medic John, Elias also saw John's wife Mary and their new little one in a carrier, a baby girl judging by all the pink. Observing the couple, they were one that was very much happy and whole. Elias could see in both John and Mary's eyes, that even in happiness there was a certain sadness in them. Although he could also see more into Mary's eyes a secret was held though he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He knew in time it would be said in time when he would get to it. Heck, Sherlock more likely knew it then himself.

In the same bench that he was in last time Elias watched the couple pass by. He was mindful to be on the look out for both the camera's and Sherlock's homeless network. Luckily no wrong moves happened at his part. Primary targets two done.

Suddenly refocusing on current events. Elias came out of his mind and into reality again. He had only one more left, one more target to observe. Molly Hooper, top Pathologist in all of St. Bart's hospital. He had to say though this one wouldn't be as easy as the last two targets. Considering the hospital had many camera's inside and she was a favorite of Sherlock Holmes. It would definitely be worth the visit. He decided beforehand that their meeting would be different a more direct approach then one from afar and he knew just the thing for it.

Elias bound out of the chair and to a filing cabinet by the window and pulled out some files quickly before heading out of the flat, better now than never for anything. Hailing a cab, he told the driver of his destination.

Confused the cabbie asked, "You sure you want to go there?"

Glaring at the cabbie he answered, "Of course. Quickest route you know. Please." Elias stressed his 'please' into a bitter smile.

The ride to the old 12th century Hospital was a quiet one. It was good enough and saved time for Elias to plan out his introduction and possible escape if Sherlock were to ever enter the Morgue.

Paying the cabbie once he got to the hospital, he entered and gave the receptionist the file he held in his hands.

The lady didn't even glance at Elias as he gave her the files. She only asked, "You're a new intern here?"

"U-umm yes. I am for the Morgue as you can see." A clear mask was put up for himself, play the part to sell the act. Granted it didn't work all the time, but it seemed easy enough for the lady barely looking at him.

"Alright. I'll just give Molly a call then. Hopefully that bozo of a "consulting detective" isn't with her." Scowling at the lady he clearly didn't like her spoken feeling for Sherlock Holmes. Rude was what he was thinking, but even then he knew Sherlock could care less for someone less significant's opinion on him. "Hey Molly... I have new intern here mind if you take him in?... Alright, you're welcome."

"I take it, that I am accepted. Mind giving me directions to the Morgue?"

The receptionist gave him the directions; it was just a few floors up apparently. Making his way up he remembered the little information he got of the Pathologist the day before. Sparse information of her was on her blog, but it was just her infatuation for the consulting detective and other stuff, Moriarty's talks with her included. Unfortunately, that was all old news he wanted the new. The files he found, he hacked from this computer. It wasn't an easy feat, but it was one far more useful than the last. Still it was just as brief as the last, and he decided then why not observe it instead just as he did with everyone else.

Opening the doors to the Morgue he watched the small female figure elbow deep into a body. Her face full of concentration, and calm. He quietly watched her work, her cuts were amazing, precise and skilled. She truly was the top of her works and the constant recorded notes she took of the victim on the slab below her was, to say at the least, fascinating.

"Umm excuse me?" Elias said.

"Huh?" Looking up Molly looked slightly startled. She forgot completely that the new intern was coming up. "Oh. Sorry. Wait how long have you been standing there?"

With a smile on his face he answered, "Long enough to watch your brilliance, those articles of you don't do you justice."

"Eh. Thank you. So you're the new intern. How long will you be studying here?"

"Not long actually I just need a few more hours for my requirements to be complete, hope you don't mind. Especially with the tellings around here saying you work with Sherlock Holmes."

"No it's alright. I won't let him bother you, but who knows what he'll see from you. Maybe he will like you it's worth a try." Her answer was genuine with heart and probability. It was endearing, but he already knew what to do.

"Don't know if I should. Anyways I only came here to introduce myself. It was nice seeing you work, Dr. Hooper. Hope you have nice day." Putting on a charming smile he walked away and out of the Morgue.

"You too then." Molly said quietly. Shaking her head she returned back to her work.


	4. Chapter 4- Small murders are fun

**Sorry for not updating in a while. Its been a mixture of school work, procrastination, trying to watch some anime/shows I need catching up on, and some writers block too. Hope u like this new chapter. R&R. **

**-IceQueen**

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St. Bart's- Morgue. The most common place for Molly Hooper to be found in. She was the top Pathologist even at a young age, the dead always seeming to spark an interest in her. From dead animals to the things she was able to do now. Honestly she wouldn't trade the job for anything else.

Currently, she was just about done with the last body of the day. Taking notes and examining the body to her best ability, she finished pretty quickly. Putting away the body in its appropriate place, then came the boring part of her job: paper work.

Suddenly, Sherlock came in the Morgue practically bursting the doors open.

"Molly," he said.

"Hey. You got a case." She replied in a statement not a question. She always seemed to know when Sherlock was in a good mood or not lately.

"Yup," he said popping the 'p'. "You have the body no doubt. Would you mind bringing it out?"

Walking over to the cabinets with the dead bodies, Molly pulled out the victim. "Female by the name of Catherine Marcus. She was 31. Though I do believe Greg already gave you the report, nothing much is left other than to figure out who killed her."

The case was homicide, it was roughly a 6 or a 7. Only Sherlock could tell the numbers once he was done with the case. Greg practically begged him to do the case insisting he should do something other than sulk about the whole Moriarty deal. Sherlock looked over the body examining the evidence. Meanwhile, Molly watched him do his thing.

Sherlock glanced up at Molly, "The stitching on the body says you put the body away not too long ago. What evidence did you gather?"

"Not much the inside only showed me that she had minor liver problems suggesting she was a drinker. I took a sample to see just in case her drinks weren't tampered with. The test ran through earlier. They were clean."

The room was quiet then. Molly wasn't sure if he was thinking or not. Not till she looked at him did she see Sherlock was looking back at her expectantly.

"Is there something on my face?" Her face furrowed in confusion.

"No. I just... Don't you have anything else? You're an intelligent person Molly. Your job and hard work clearly show that. What do you see?"

Instead of confusion Molly's face held astonishment. She knew hardly anybody got to do any deductions when Sherlock was in the room. Well, except John and Mary's wedding day that is. Thankfully, the little boy Archie popped the best answer of them all.

Taking a deep breath she spoke, "Alright... I do see there was a pretty big fight. Everything from her neck, arms, and knuckles. The brushing on the neck obviously suggests strangulation and struggle, but it's not as wide as a person's hand so maybe a tie strangled her. Small cuts on the arms and upper body says the suspect had a ring. Her wrist is fractured and two of her fingers suggesting the person knew what they were doing. Her hair is a mess the clumps of hair grabbed it's almost enough to fit my hand. But all of it is in a strange angle like the person was shorter than Catherine so we possibly have a female murderer."

Looking up at Sherlock a smile was spread across his face. His heterochromic eyes shined bright at Molly.

"You're right. The deductions. You are for that matter, right it was an other female. She was just about the same height as the victim. Quiet, violent, and like you said she clearly knew what she was doing to the victim in this. And I know just who did this. She cleared her tracks, but not enough. Foolish really." Sherlock's speech was a bit enthusiastic. He was having a better day than he thought he would even if the case was a 4 at best. Molly made the day all the better.

"Who a friend of hers?" Molly asked playfully as she cleared away the body into its rightful place again.

Still standing by the metal slab he answered, "Yes, in fact-"

Sherlock's words stopped short like a new idea soaked in his mind. His eyes bounced around in hesitation. Molly wasn't sure why everyone knew Sherlock was not a hesitant person at the least, when it came to him on cases. He then walked abruptly from the Morgue, all the while telling Molly to stay in the vicinity of the morgue. Shifting on her feet Molly really didn't know what was going on. Walking to her office, she started her paperwork for the day. It was quite boring, but it had to be done sometime soon. In the next room over the pathologist heard the doors open and footsteps coming closer in her direction.

Opening the door Sherlock greeted her, "Thank you for your help, Molly."

Turning to him Molly saw two cups of coffee in each of his hands. Sherlock handed her the one on his left. Hesitating, she honestly didn't expect for _the_ Sherlock Holmes to get her coffee. Taking a sip of the hot drink it was admirably the right amount of milk and sugar she took.

"You're welcome and thank you."

Sherlock didn't answer back. Drinking his coffee lazily Sherlock's face looked bored, but his eyes held a pleased and happy look to them. They stayed in the comfortable silence while Molly tapped away on her computer finishing her reports.

Finally Sherlock said, "I texted Lestrade while I got our coffee it won't be long before our killer is behind bars."

"That's good. Hopefully she doesn't start a fight it would be very unfortunate."

Chuckling, "It would. Her track record is already bad enough. A bit of a rebel back in her uni days apparently. Do you have any body parts? I'm bored don't you ever get bored, Molly?"

Laughing then Molly replied, "Yes, I do for both of your questions. Come on."

They both smiled not sure what to make of the day they were having. Leaving the room they enjoyed the rest of the day together with their experiments.


End file.
